I Did, I Do and I Always Will
by hopelessromantic549
Summary: Everything feels like it's going to be alright now, and you try to ignore the jealous gleam in his blue eyes. You can't decide whether you love or hate him for that. You think it's love. It's always love with him. Jeyton at first, endgame Leyton. One-shot


**A/N: This one-shot is set sometime in Season 2. All regular plotlines apply; the only difference is the way Jake and Peyton's relationship progresses. This will focus more on her thoughts – most having to do with Lucas – about it. And it won't end like it did in the show.**

**Be warned: This one-shot is not quite so sympathetic a view of Jake and Peyton's relationship as the show depicts. That being said, I think their relationship is important, so don't expect **_**too**_** much hate ;)**

**Thanks for reading! Enjoy :)**

**P.S. The song lyrics are from Paramore's **_**My Heart**_**.**

_I've fallen down_

When Jake leaves you – well, he doesn't leave _you _per se; he leaves only because of that bitch/slut Nikki – you think your life just couldn't get any worse. Brooke is barely talking to you, Lucas let you walk away from him not once but twice, and your father is on a month-long drudging trip, as usual. And now your only remaining source of comfort is gone too.

And you're really not sure he's ever coming back.

You wish your theory of people always leaving wasn't proven quite so often. Maybe then you'd have a little more faith in humanity.

The first couple of weeks after Jake leaves are the hardest, of course. It's not like you were ever involved romantically, but you _could_ have been, and the very thought haunts you. You feel hollow, empty, and you walk the hallways of Tree Hill High in a trance. Your dull, lifeless eyes flick to each of the people who have hurt you lately, your gaze blank. Brooke scoffs disdainfully, but a hint of pain lurks in her coffee brown eyes. It's slightly gratifying. You look at Lucas next. He winces at the sight of your pale slit of a mouth but tries to smile. He doesn't succeed.

You know there's no one you can rely on now. You lost a friendship and a relationship – or the possibility of one at least – in one night. How are you supposed to get over that?

You figure you're not.

But eventually, you and Brooke become friends again. It's tentative, of course, and the strands that bind you are worse than tenuous, but at least you're making progress. It helps that you solved her Sparkle Classic problem by getting Haley to be a cheerleader and that Lucas slept with Nikki (you think Brooke almost enjoys that Lucas hurt you, too, but you can't be sure). You're united in your dislike – or hate, depending on the day – of the boy you both thought you could love. But that was all long ago.

The deciding factor in you and Brooke's reunion is Lucas' departure.

You understand why he leaves – you sure as hell wish _you_ could have a fresh start – but that doesn't help close the hole that has manifested itself in your heart. In fact, you think it breaks you just a little bit more.

You and Brooke agree to burn the letter he leaves you. He's hurt you both so much – the jury's still out on which of you he hurt more – and you're not sure you can handle his words now. Now that he's gone.

But it still hurts, just a little, when you watch the dying embers of the fire consume the flimsy, white paper. You see your name written in his loopy yet masculine handwriting, the handwriting you often saw scribbled in dusty books or scrawled across a hastily written note, and suddenly there's a tear trembling on your eyelid. You turn your head so Brooke won't see. You don't want her to think you still care about Lucas, even though you know you do. You think that maybe you always will.

He comes back, though. You're not surprised – you knew he might not be able to resist the pull of this stupid town – though everyone else is. It's not as awkward as you expected it to be when he finally talks to you again, probably because you're hiding your feelings and he's denying his. You won't question his reasoning, because you know it would only ruin the fragile foundation of your newfound friendship.

Of course, that realization doesn't help you overcome your irrational – at least, you like to think it's irrational, even though you know it's really not – jealousy when he starts dating Anna. You like her well enough; she's sweet and unassuming and at least a new face in this suffocating, small town. But she's not you (she's not Brooke, either, and you think that might hurt you less), and you want him to date _you_. So you can't fully appreciate her friendship, although you try with all your might.

And then Brooke starts dating Felix, Anna's twin brother. You're happy for her, you really are – at least, you _want_ to be. She deserves love after all you and Lucas put her through. And besides – and here is the petty, selfish side of you coming out – at least this means Lucas can't date her now.

And you almost resent her for being so happy. Because you're not happy. Not in the least. You miss Jake but he's gone, you want Lucas but he's not here – at least not in all the ways that matter.

You slowly deteriorate. Your mother's old dress is ruined, and you almost turn to the cocaine that the sketchy music director at Tric gave you. Anna kisses you, and you're so confused and so angry with whoever wrote that hateful word on your locker that you push her away with more venom than you intend to. Haley leaves Nathan and goes on tour, diminishing any faith you still had in true love.

And so you _do _turn to cocaine. It's easy, it's fast, it's relief. You think it's enough to save you, at least for a little while.

And then Jake comes back.

_I am finding out that maybe I was wrong  
That I've fallen down, and I can't do this alone_

You see him coming out of the darkness like a bright light surrounding the fall, and tears stream down your cheeks. You realize he's the only salvation you have left, and you need to hold him so badly that you tremble.

He's not Lucas, and he can't be, but you missed him. You try not to think about the fact that you've missed the guy who broke two hearts in one night more. You think Jake's probably healthier for you anyway.

Probably.

But all sensible thought flees when you breathe his name and he envelops you in a hug so comforting that the tears cascading down your cheeks intensify and you find yourself blubbering hysterically. He looks at you for a long moment after you pull apart, those warm brown eyes sparkling with an emotion you can't identify, and you realize you'll fall for him. You're surprised the thought doesn't have you running.

But you guess that's because somebody already broke your heart. Jake can't do much more damage.

"Let's get you home, Peyton," he whispers, kissing your forehead gently, and you nod. You think nothing has ever sounded sweeter.

You follow him to your house, his hand lightly clasped with yours, neither of you speaking. You wonder why he's here, wonder where Jenny is, wonder if he's talked to Nikki…But you don't ask him, because you've missed him and he's here with you now. You think that might be all that matters.

As you climb the stairs leading to your bedroom – for once, Larry's absence makes you feel safer and not lonelier – Jake explains that Lucas called him because he was worried about you. You sigh and nod. You can't decide if you love or hate the jerk for that slick move. You think it's love. It's always love with him.

But you're with Jake now, and his arms are around you as you slip under the cool covers, and you're just so…tired. It's more than physical exhaustion; you're tired of _life_. You're tired of loving Lucas and missing Jake – though not anymore, you think gratefully – and trying to fix things with Brooke. You're tired of trying to please everyone. You don't think you can do it anymore.

You rest your head on Jake's warm, strong shoulder – so much like Lucas', you muse painfully – and finally give in to the torrent of sorrow. It's a long, sleepless night, but maybe you need to be sad for a while. Maybe you need to stop pretending you're happy when really, you can't remember the last time you smiled.

_Stay with me  
This is what I need, please_

It's isn't long before Jake announces he's staying in Tree Hill for good. He tells you this at school, in front of all your friends, and you blush, not even trying to disguise your pleasure. Brooke raises her eyebrows at you, smirking while Felix kisses her temple adoringly, and you smile back at her. You're glad that at least _this_ part of your life is back to normal.

Everything finally seems like it's going to be all right, and you try to ignore the jealous gleam in Lucas' clear blue eyes. He's broken up with Anna by now, and you guess he expects you to come crawling back to him. But you won't do that. He broke your heart and he doesn't deserve a second chance.

And besides, you don't think you really miss him. You think it's only answers you need. You don't want him, all blond hair and piercing blue eyes and flashing smirk. You don't need him breathing beside you.

Right?

Right.

You and Jake take a road trip to Savannah to get Jenny. You like road trips; you like making mixes to sing along with as the sun beats down on you, like driving with the top down and eating beef jerky while your hair blows in the wind. It's freedom and comfort all together, and you love it.

But this road trip, there's a sort of desperation lingering in your eyes. You know it's because you're counting on this trip to save you. You hope that holding Jenny in your arms will help you appreciate life again – although, what's life without _him_? – and you are well aware that this may be your last chance to take control of yourself again. You have to try.

And you realize that maybe it's time to let go of Lucas. You think you've held on as long as is healthy – and probably longer than you really needed to. You should move on now, no matter how much it burns and aches and pushes and screams.

And it does.

But you don't mention Lucas to Jake in casual conversation as you drive, the Jake who you know doesn't really understand the boy who so completely changed your life (you think that maybe that means something). Lucas is gone, replaced with Jake, and you're okay with that. At least, you make yourself _believe_ you are.

Jenny is as adorable as you remember, all fuzzy orange hair and dimpled cheeks and squirming, soft baby arms. She remembers you, you think; she giggles when she catches hold of your blond curls and she quickly and comfortably falls asleep in your arms. You think you feel tears welling in your eyes as her warm breath descends on your shoulders, and you blink them back angrily. The moisture confuses you; you're not sad. At least, you don't _think_ you are.

Jake only nods understandingly and pulls you close to him. You guess he can feel the break and falter as you shudder, tears streaming down your face. You guess he can see the grief in your eyes. You guess he knows you need to be held.

You think he can't quite relate, can't quite sympathize. (Only Lucas ever can). But at least he's trying.

Somehow, though, that only makes it worse. Because you don't deserve this, any of it, don't deserve his kindness and his fragile daughter and the life you think he wants to make for you. You don't deserve _him_. He needs light and laughter and flashes of white teeth in wide-mouthed smiles. And you know you can't give that to him. You're too broken, too scarred, too twisted. Too dark.

But you need him, so you let him hold you. You feel guilty, because he's not Lucas and he feels like betrayal and you know _you_ feel like betrayal, but you can't deny yourself this comfort any longer.

You're not sure you ever could.

_Sing us a song, and we'll sing it back to you  
We could sing our own  
But what would it be without you?_

Two weeks pass before Jake kisses you. You wonder why it's taken him so long to make a move. You've certainly given him hints that you want him; you lick your lips whenever his eyes catch yours, you tame your unruly curls and preen more – much more – than usual, and you tug your shirt down whenever you see him walking towards you. It bothers you that he hasn't really paid attention to any of your antics, antics you fully recognize as Brooke-like but you nonetheless support. When have you become invisible?

But you push that painful and probably unnecessary thought out of your fragile heart – you think you've suffered enough to warrant this one denial – and smile at Jake when he bends his head towards yours. You feel so needy now, so desperate. It's almost too scary, because it's so familiar, so reminiscent of a memory you've tried so hard to forget…

But his lips are soft and warm, the kiss gentle, tender. It's different from that kiss that has lingered in your mind for so long.

You can tell he wants more, though, from the possessive grip of his rough hands on your smooth neck. You lean into this kiss – you promise yourself you'll only let him have one – because he tastes so good, like hot chocolate and fluffy marshmallows and cold milk. He tastes like _home_. And you feel wanted and loved. You think you could kiss like this forever.

But you're the first to break away, because you promised yourself just one, and you don't break promises. (Other people do that for you).

You stop him because his hands are resting on your hips and pushing up the shirt that covers the skin you have so zealously tried to protect. The last time you (almost) had sex was with Lucas, and you just can't relive that memory. You know you're not ready for this yet. You wonder if you will ever be, but that's a question for another day.

Or maybe you'll just put it off forever.

"Jake," you whisper. You think there are tears in your voice. You know there are tears in your eyes.

You don't want to push him away, not really, because you really do care about him and you're trembling with the desire to let him make you forget your own name. But you can't do this right now. You just can't.

He nods, understanding and patient as always. You grimace. Now you _really_ know you don't deserve him.

You look down, heat flooding your cheeks, and you notice Jenny is smiling up at you from the crib you and Jake set up in your room. You want to cry again. She is so beautiful, so pure and untainted. You can't bear to mar that perfection.

And so you don't reach out a hand to stroke her milky cheek. It's rare, this, since you nearly always touch her affectionately. But if Jake notices, he doesn't give any indication. It's yet another sign that you don't deserve him.

You resent that. You think Lucas would have yelled at you for being so distant. You _know_ he would have.

You hate that you're even thinking about him right now.

You and Jake go on your first real date the next night. You walk along the pier, eating ice cream and sneaking quick, fervent glances at each other when you think the other isn't looking. You feel like a teenager again, like just another lovesick girl who falls and falls and fully expects someone to catch her. You know it's odd to think that – you're seventeen, not twenty-five – but truthfully, you haven't felt like a clueless teenager in a long time. Your problems are way too mature and retractable for that.

But you feel lighter these days. You walk through the hallways with a spring in your step, giggling whenever Lucas – no, Jake (see, you're confusing even yourself) – whispers something in your ear. You hold Jenny while Jake works at the café, you comfort Nathan whenever he laments about Haley's departure – you can tell him truthfully now that sometimes people _do_ come back – and you cheer Anna on when she confronts her sexuality head-on.

And all the while, Lucas' eyes never leave your face. He stares at you at school, when you're standing by your locker, Jake's fingers threading through your curls absentmindedly. He stares at you at the café, when you sketch at the counter and Karen chats with you amiably. He stares at you in the gym, when you're wearing just a sports bra and tiny shorts and you can't deny you did it for him.

But you shift your weight from foot to foot and look at him with tired eyes, begging him to please just stop. You're happy now. Can't he see that?

No, he can't. Probably because he knows you're not.

But you ignore that thought. You're trying to be happy. That should be enough. And besides, you think that now he's falling for Brooke again. He's pursuing her, and you're so mad at him for staring at you all the time. He has no right to do that, not if he wants someone else. Doesn't he remember what happened the last time he lusted after two girls at the same time? You really have no idea why he insists upon ruining his life.

You don't know what to think, so you don't think at all.

You and Brooke spend lazy spring afternoons lounging in her pool – neither of you is sure how long it'll be until her parents decide to sell the house – and gossiping about guys. She and Felix have broken up by now, mostly because she found out he was the one who scrawled that hateful word across the locker you thought was your property. You love her for that, you really do. This feels more like the way things used to be, before Lucas came between you and betrayal became the norm. You've missed it, and you tell her so.

You want to ask her why she's not responding to Lucas' advances, why she's pushing him away, but you don't. Because as much as you hate still holding on to him – or missing him, or loving him, or whatever it is that you do – you know you couldn't bear it if he started dating Brooke again.

But she's not happy, and your friendship has evolved enough that you want to mend her broken heart.

The problem is, yours is broken too. And only now do you think it might put itself back together.

Of course, Lucas lingers in your every thought. How can he not? You loved him once, and you're finding it difficult to believe you don't love him still.

But you have Jake now, and you convince yourself that that's all that matters.

_I am nothing now_

You and Jake have sex on Keith and Jules' wedding day.

You can't bring yourself to think of it as "making love," because you're not sure you love him. You've said the words, of course – you're not that girl, the girl who will sleep with anyone, anymore (and maybe you never were) – but there are nagging uncertainties tugging at your perfectly sculpted façade.

You think that maybe you've settled for something less, something easier and less frightening. Sure, Jake still gives you butterflies, and your heart swells whenever his brown eyes lock on yours. But you know you could love him more. You know how to love someone completely. You've done it before.

Just not with him.

Because as you writhe beneath his touch and gasp at his hands on your thighs and arch your back when his tongue flicks to the valley between your breasts, your mind lingers on things you know it shouldn't be lingering on. You shouldn't be thinking about clear blue eyes and Salinger novels and coffee in small cafés. You shouldn't be thinking about Lucas Scott. You should be thinking about Jake Jaglieski and what his hands are doing to you and oh my god it's so amazing…

But you're not, and it's not, and everything is just not not not.

He either doesn't notice or doesn't care, and you're too immersed in your own mistakes to try and figure out which. You wonder when you stopped caring about his feelings, and you fret over that a moment. But only until you realize he's a filler, a stand-in for the person you wish had just made love – because it's only ever love with him – to you.

You cry once you lie naked in your bed. Jake doesn't ask you why, but you think this is the beginning of the end.

_And it's been so long  
Since I've heard a sound  
A sound of my only hope  
This time, I will be listening_

Jake's in jail the next time you examine your feelings about him. You've spent the last few weeks avoiding time alone, time when you can hear nothing but the wind sighing in the trees outside your window. Because you don't want to be able to think. You want to feel and live and love.

And avoid thinking all together.

So you fall into a haze of having sex and not having sex, and it's easy to forget that maybe he's not enough for you. You don't want to hurt him, and you don't think you could bear losing him (you know that's selfish, but by now you really don't have the energy to care). You're just pretending now. It's what you've done all your life – Brooke would never have suspected you still cared about Lucas if you hadn't walked in on her and him that stupid night – and you're an expert at it. Only _he_ has ever burst through the walls around you.

But Jake's not him (you have to remind yourself that daily), and that simple detail makes your life a whole lot easier. This way, you can almost convince yourself you're happy.

You're not, of course, but no one needs to know that.

Sometimes, though, you think Brooke notices. She's quieter than she usually is whenever you two talk – you marvel at her self-restraint – and those brown eyes of hers are always warm and sympathetic now. She doesn't mention Lucas or Jake; she must realize it's all too complicated for you to worry about. And you think she's not letting Lucas pursue her because she knows how you feel about him.

You want to cry at her kindness, because you've been through so much together and yet she's still willing to give him up for you. You don't know whether she has feelings for Lucas anymore – you don't think she does, but you're really not sure – but regardless, she's sacrificing the opportunity to date him.

You wish you were that selfless. You wish you deserved her friendship.

But you don't. You still resent her sometimes – very rarely now – for ruining what you and Lucas had. And you're deceiving the guy you know you should love, and all just because you're running away from a love you can't accept.

You think maybe life's just not fair. This is all wrong. For everyone involved, yourself included. Is it too much to ask that Lucas Scott just leave you the fuck alone?

You guess it is.

But soon enough, you don't have time to think about silly matters like the loyalties of your heart. Nikki discovers that Jake is in Tree Hill, and she comes back in all her leather-jacketed-and-cheap-eye-shadowed glory. You don't feel threatened by her presence; Jake is in love with you – that's conceited to think but you know it's the truth – and besides, you're not sure you'd really care if she stole him from you. You need him, yes, but only to a certain degree. You've resigned yourself to the painful reality that you need someone else much more.

Your only real worry is the little girl you love more than you ever thought you were capable of (you think maybe you need her more than Jake himself). So you support Jake in hiding Jenny from Nikki; you hide her in your own house. Because this matters. _She _matters. Your heart's been broken enough to know that if Jake loses her he'll never recover.

And so you resolve to help him in any way you can. Especially because you know that this _thing _– it's a relationship, but you cringe at the word – will surely end soon. You really can't hold on much longer.

But somehow, it all falls apart much sooner than you expected. Nikki takes Jenny and has Jake arrested, and the fragmented pieces of the heart you thought you had mended long ago tremble again. You wish you didn't know what this kind of pain felt like, but you do, and you can't stop it. You almost think it might kill you this time.

You're not sure what hurts more, knowing Nikki has Jenny or realizing that a part of you is _glad _that Jake's in jail, because at least now you don't have to pretend.

You stumble when he calls you, and tears itch in your throat. You don't release those tears, though, because the part of you – really all of you, you think – that loves Lucas Scott knows you need to be calm and rational. That boy has taught you many things, but you're pretty sure patience is the one lesson you'll carry with you as long as the memory of him will linger.

Which is, to say, forever.

You shake your heard fervently after a long moment and breathe into the phone, "Jake. Calm down." You make your voice low and soothing – you think you sound like Haley, and you almost laugh at the thought – and you hear Jake breathing softly in response. He's taking broken, ragged breaths, but they're slow and even, and you know he's trying to control himself.

You appreciate the effort, you do. You just wish you cared more.

"I need help," he whispers. His voice is gravelly, just like _his _always was, and lust darkens your eyes before you can stop it.

But you shake that off. It is_ so_ not the time. And then you blush severely, because you realize that the sudden sound of Jake crying doesn't hurt as much you know it should. You want to scream at yourself for such blatant indifference – before it's been subtle – but you can't. You want to love him, you do. You don't want to be stuck on someone else, someone who's after your best friend – again.

But you are.

Jake's your friend, though. First and foremost. You hope he always will be. So you whisper back, wondering as you do so when you'll tell him that you can't let him believe you love him anymore, "I'll get some help."

He doesn't say anything, and you hang up the phone, rubbing your temples with the pads of your fingers. After only a moment's contemplation – because really, this decision is easy – you grab your coat and car keys and drive wildly to the house of the one person who's saved you multiple times. You're sure he can save Jake from this. And you don't stop to think about what his reaction will be.

_Sing us a song, and we'll sing it back to you  
(Sing it back to you)  
We could sing our own  
But what would it be without you?_

You burst through the back door of his – you can't quite think his name yet – bedroom, and he looks up, clearly startled by your disheveled hair and heaving chest. His eyes linger a little on the curve of your hips, and you want to smirk at how nonchalant he is. But you're panicking too much to care.

In the intermittent silence, you notice he's reading _The Catcher in the Rye_. There are tears streaming down your face before you can even offer a greeting, and you can't bring yourself to question why. You've missed this blue-eyed boy. Oh, how you've missed him!

"Peyton." It's an anxious whisper; you'd know that sound anywhere. He sounds worried, and he stands up and strides towards you, putting his warm hands on your shoulders. "What's wrong?"

You can't answer; you're trembling, swaying, breaking. You've avoided him for so long for this very reason. You don't want to feel the way he makes you feel; you're afraid of it. It's too big and important and overwhelming. You know the blond Scott brother can break your heart (and probably will), and you don't think you can give into that kind of power. You want to, of course, but you just can't. You won't.

And so you only whisper, "Jake."

Lucas – you finally allow yourself to think his name – stares at you, those clear blue eyes blank and unreadable. You grimace slightly. (You wish you remembered how to read him).

After a long moment, he simply pulls you close to him and wraps his arms around you. You know he's probably seething with anger and denial and remembrance, but he gives no indication of his discontent. You love him for that, love him for ignoring – at least for now – how he feels about your relationship (there's that stupid word again) with Jake. He could say something, anything, but instead he just holds you. And you think you really need that.

He lets you go after a few moments and grunts, his voice still somehow kind and so…_Lucas_, "Explain." You can tell it's killing him to even ask this of you.

You swallow fretfully. You know that if you try to tell the entire story, you won't be able to muster the proper amount of worry and panic, and Lucas will get suspicious. You really don't need an elaborate analysis of your feelings for a guy you're not sure you love, so you only say bluntly, "Jake's in jail."

Lucas lets out a low whistle, shaking his head in disbelief, and you close your eyes at the piercing sound. It's so familiar, although you don't think you've ever heard him whistle. (You guess everything about him is familiar).

"What the hell happened?" He asks quietly, at last. It should have been an angry question, and you recognize that he wishes it was, but he can't quite make himself sound annoyed. You realize that's because he regrets everything that has happened between you and he wants to – needs to – save you. He always has.

You just wonder when he stopped acting on the urge.

You breathe in a little, trying to still your pattering heart (it's impossible, of course, but you always try anyway). You think one word will suffice for explanation. "Nikki."

You can see Lucas tense immediately. You suppose that's because Jake's ex was the reason you and he stopped being…whatever you were. But you think that's always been the problem. You can never define what you are – friends, lovers, friends with benefits – and so you give up and return to being the friends you can never really be. As friends, you're only really comfortable around each other in theory, not practice.

That boy you can't get out of your head furrows his eyebrows, and you can almost see the whirls in his mind turning. He's obviously figuring out what to do about this, and you brighten immediately. Lucas Scott with a plan is a beautiful thing to behold.

After a long moment, he shakes his head wearily – you're not quite sure why – and murmurs, "Let's go to the station."

You nod. This seems like a good first step.

But there's an uncomfortable ache in your stomach that you can't dispel as you walk out the door. You don't think your worry for Jake and Jenny (Jenny, especially; she's with Nikki now, and you wouldn't wish that fate on anyone) is to blame. You know this stupid pain is the result of your despair about what it's going to be like with Lucas and Jake in the same room. With you.

Things have been…awkward between them ever since Jake came back. You know it's because of you, and you regret that – they were always such good friends – but you don't do anything about it. You wonder when you became so spineless.

Around the time Lucas joined the basketball team, you expect.

The ride to the station is quiet and comfortable; Lucas asks you a couple questions about how Jake ended up in jail, but otherwise leaves you to your thoughts. You're grateful to him for that. He looks so beautiful in the soft light seeping in from the moon, and you know that if you open your month, you'll tell him things neither of you wants to hear.

It's not awkward – at least, not the Lucas-and-Peyton definition of awkward – when you finally reach the station, and you don't pause to think about why. His hand reaches for yours when he opens the door for you, and you let him twine his fingers around yours. You don't ask him about it – do you really want to know? – and he doesn't say anything. But you rub his knuckles with your thumb unthinkingly (you wonder fleetingly why everything seems to be automatic with him), and he smiles down at you.

You forgot he was so tall. It's strangely comforting, his towering height – it makes you feel safe, enveloped in the warmth that defines a Scott boy. Jake is only a couple inches taller than you, and you think that it's just another distraction from your otherwise smooth trajectory of friends, love, break-up, friends again.

You tell the police officer who eyes you suspiciously that you're here to see Jake Jaglieski. She nods dismissively and looks you up and down, snapping her pink bubble gum obnoxiously. You shake your head in disgust. She reminds you of Nikki, though you're not quite sure why.

Maybe because she's determined to ruin Jake's life.

Lucas notices your frustration and squeezes your hand, chuckling under his breath. You've missed that sound – it's been a long time since you've heard him laugh and even longer since you laughed yourself – but you pull your hand away gently. You love him, yes, but according to everyone you know, you love Jake. And you're here for Jake.

You think Lucas winces when you gently unlace your fingers from his, but you're not sure. Regardless, that almost – but only almost – ceases to matter when you see Jake.

He looks horrible. Those normally adorable brown locks are matted against his forehead, and his eyes are blank (at least, the emotion in them is indiscernible, and you wonder why you can't read him like you read Lucas). He looks gaunt and pale, but you can almost see the burden of loss resting on his shoulders. He's grieving; he's imagining his world without Jenny. You know he can't quite see it.

Your heart aches for him, but the torrent of guilt coursing through your veins is much more prominent. Because you can still feel the heat of Lucas' hand on yours – figuratively, of course – and that slight smile of his flickers through your eyes. You're not sure you even really _see_ Jake.

Tears flee your eyes suddenly, and you're glad neither Jake nor Lucas will realize that you're not crying for the broken boy – he's not a man, and you're realizing that you're not a woman yet either – behind the rusty jail bars. You're crying for the future you'll never have, for the boy you're suddenly sure will never give you what you want. You're realizing that maybe he can't.

Maybe he, too, is afraid of what being with you will mean. Maybe he doesn't want to get his heart broken.

But you tear yourself away from thoughts of lost futures. "Jake, I'm here," you whisper, reaching a hand through the bars to clasp his fingers. His hand is cold, limp, and you resist the urge to flinch.

What you said was true, in a way; you're physically here. But it's such a lie that you hang your head to hide the color flooding your cheeks.

"Hey, man," Lucas greets easily, breaking the silence. His voice is slightly shaky, but he hides whatever inner battle is raging in that flawed heart of his. And he hides it well. You admire him for that, admire him for pretending that this situation doesn't faze him in the least. You know you're incapable of smiling, but he at least seems to be doing just fine.

But everything is _not_ okay, and you can't pretend it is.

Jake smiles at you weakly, and something alights in his eyes. You think it might be anger – it'd certainly be justifiable. But there's a certain sorrow in the downward curve of his lips, and you realize it's not anger but resignation.

You can't help wondering what he's resigned himself to. You almost hope it's to you and his fate – he surely must know that your "relationship" is slowly fading – but you know he's not thinking about you right now. He's trying to steel himself for the perhaps permanent reality of only seeing Jenny every other weekend.

Lucas must see it, too, because he offers urgently, "We're going to take care of this."

He sounds so sure, and you wish you could believe him (you think that helping Jake get Jenny back might assuage some of that stupid guilt). But you know that Lucas' charm won't solve this problem.

You almost smirk at the thought of Lucas' charm – it's worked on you many times – but you restrain yourself. You think that maybe you need to start acting more serious.

Grimacing, you ask Jake, "Jenny?"

You think he's never looked so inexplicably tired. "Nikki."

You already knew the answer, but you had to ask. She's the only thing you'll miss about Jake.

Because you've decided your course. You and Lucas are going to help Jake get Jenny back from Nikki and help him get sole custody, and then you're going to let him go. He deserves better than half your heart.

You think that maybe you do, too.

_Please don't go  
Don't fade away_

It's only a couple days before Jake is released. Lucas persuades Andy to bail him out – you thank both guys profusely, and tears spring to your eyes at their generosity – and the Australian man hires a lawyer that guarantees Jake's safe return. Nikki's a problem (most courts lean towards giving custody to the mother), but she's also a nomad who can't hold a job for more than a couple weeks. Jake is making his way through high school, has a place to live (not with you anymore, thankfully), and works at the café. Nikki doesn't have a chance.

In the weeks before Jake's imminent departure – he has decided that he and Jenny need a fresh start, and he's just waiting for the custody decision – you don't kiss. You don't have sex, and you don't cuddle. You don't pretend Jenny is your daughter and that you're _really_ in a relationship. You just laugh and smile and talk about things. You don't have a big talk to decide these sudden changes, but somehow they just happen.

You think it's better this way. You're not quite sure you and Jake were ever meant to be a couple, and you're glad things between you are finally melting into friendship.

You don't see Lucas much, and you think you're glad about that, too. You need time to think about your plan, time to wonder if he's really worth it. (You already know he is).

Nikki leaves town quickly and without much whining; a lawyer isn't even needed. You think you're almost grateful to her. You saw the lengths she went to to take care of Jenny in a way she'd never been able to, and that gave you the courage to pursue what you've wanted ever since you almost ran into Lucas. You resent her, of course, but you realize you understand her motives.

It's a Sunday evening in mid-May when Jake Jaglieski and his tiny, beautiful daughter catch the train, taking your insanity – at least most of it – with him. You think that's appropriate. You've always hated Mondays – who hasn't? – and now you have another reason to want to stay in bed. You know you won't really miss him, but still…

You'll only miss him as the buffer between you and your real feelings.

You wish you found his departure more surprising than you do. You guess you always knew he'd leave again.

This time, though, you realize that Jake is leaving because he wants to and needs to. He tells you that, and you think he's just disproved your theory. People always leave, yes, but they find better lives wherever they end up. And you know you will, too.

He stands in your living room that Sunday evening, bouncing orange-haired Jenny on his hip, holding a bassinet, a backpack strapped to his back. He looks like he's ready for an adventure, and you realize suddenly that you're excited for him. Savannah sounds beautiful and new and wonderfully child-friendly. You're incredibly happy that he has this opportunity.

There's a sudden, awkward silence. You look at him, and he looks at you. You wonder if you'll ever see him again. You wonder if that even matters.

"I'll miss you," you say earnestly, just to break the silence.

"Nah, you won't," he replies easily. You're shocked at his nonchalance.

"What do you mean?" You're genuinely curious. Doesn't he know he's the only – sort of – comfort in your oh-so-tragic life? (And then you're laughing at yourself; he's a lot smarter than you ever gave him credit for).

"Come on, Peyt," he murmurs with a little laugh, nudging your shoulder conspiratorially. You almost gasp; he's never called you by that nickname before. He's only ever called you Peyton, and you didn't realize until now how much that bothers you.

"You never really loved me."

You flinch at that blunt statement. You expected anger when you finally got to this point, but his voice is soft and forgiving. You gulp, because you know you don't deserve this kindness.

"Jake…" you whisper, but you can't find the right words. You're really not even sure what you're supposed to say.

"It's okay," he mumbles. You think you see color flood his cheeks, and you cringe a little. You never meant to hurt him; it just happened. You realize now that by not fully committing yourself to him you broke his heart more than you would have if you had just told him.

That's your curse, you think. You never say how you really feel until it's too late.

"I'm sorry," you mutter lamely. You know an apology will never really be enough.

He nods stolidly, bouncing Jenny a little harder now. It's a nervous move, and it's not lost on you. You attempt a smile, but you can't seem to twist your lips into the proper shape. You wonder when it became so hard to just be _happy_.

"It's time for me to go," Jake says shortly after a long moment.

It's a bit of a shock, this announcement, and you wait for the wave of pain to hit you. But it doesn't, and you find you can breathe perfectly easily. You guess you've stopped depending on him like he's a drug.

"Have a safe trip," you whisper. You're not sure what else is appropriate for a moment like this. You can't kiss him, and a hug would just be awkward. You almost want to shake hands with him.

But no. You simply reach out to him and wrap your arms around him, breathing in that smell of hot chocolate. You know you'll never forget this brown-eyed boy, and you don't want to. He taught you so much. You're grateful to him for opening your eyes to the truths you hid from.

"Thank you, Jake," you breathe. You think that's a step towards reconciliation.

You feel him chuckle against your neck, and you smile to yourself. Maybe one day you'll see him again. Maybe one day you'll drive to Savannah and visit him and Jenny. Maybe sometime in the future, you'll be friends again. Someday.

But until then, you'll just…

"Be happy," Jake whispers.

And you nod, because you know what you're going to do next, and so does he.

_This heart, it beats, beats for only you  
This heart, it beats, beats for only you  
This heart, it beats, beats for only you_

The sky is inky black by the time you make it to his house.

Once Jake leaves, you dawdles for a little bit, busying yourself with organizing your record collection and calling Brooke to discuss outfit choices for the next day (it's so uncharacteristic of you, but you need some girl talk). You think you're stalling. Wait, no. You _know _you're stalling.

But finally, you can't put it off any longer, and you jump in your car and drive the familiar streets.

You knock on his door firmly. You're going to do this, and you're going to do this well. You won't take no for an answer.

"Peyton?" He looks confused when he opens the door, and he rubs the back of his neck in that adorable way that makes you weak in the knees. You wonder briefly if this is a good idea. You're not sure you can get the words out if he's looking at you like that, and what you're going to say is sure to puzzle him to no end.

But you sigh and sweep past him, winking at him subtly. You think you hear him sharply inhale, and you smile to yourself.

"Lucas," you breathe. It comes out sultrier than you intended it to, and you imagine that lust darkens those gloriously blue eyes of his. You hope you still have that effect on him (and you think you do) – you're not sure Jake ever worshipped your body the way Lucas most certainly is capable of doing – but this isn't what you came here for. You're here to win his heart. You're here to win his love.

The whole lust thing can come later, you think devilishly.

"Jake's gone," you say airily. You make sure there isn't a single note of pain in your voice; you don't want him to think you're only here for comfort. He's always saving you, and he has no reason to believe this time is any different.

This time _is_ different, though. You don't really need saving. You could survive without him – you've done it for the last couple months. You just don't want to anymore.

But this is Lucas you're talking to, and so of course he assumes you're here to cry on his shoulder. "I don't care," he mutters gruffly.

You smile a little, to yourself (he can't see you; he's facing your back). You don't think he's ever been this blunt and almost…cruel. At least to you. And this is exactly the reaction you were hoping for. You want him to be jealous, want him to resent Jake for tearing you apart even more than you already were.

And it's more than that. You want him to care enough about you to pretend he doesn't care at all. You think – no, you _know_ – you want him to love you again. Assuming he ever loved you in the first place. (You think he did - and does).

"I don't want you to," you whisper, turning around to face him. There's anger in the curl of his lips and the set of his jaw, but he looks more shocked than anything. His eyes are conflicted.

"What do you mean?" He sounds defiant, and you resist the urge to flinch. You want him, yes, but you also want peace and comfort. You think you've had enough pain, passion, fire, etc. for a while.

"I don't care that he's gone," you clarify. It's truer than you think you'd realized until now.

Lucas looks dumbfounded now, and you step towards him, closing the gap between you. You take his hands in yours, lacing your fingers through his, and kiss each of his knuckles. You'd forgotten how warm his skin always is. You smile slightly and whisper against his skin, your lips making soothing circles, "I've been fooling myself for a long time, Luke."

Six weeks and four days, actually. (You only remember that because it started the day you let Lucas go, at least officially).

Lucas shakes his head slightly and withdraws his hands from yours. That's not an encouraging sign, of course – it means he's fighting the urge to pull you into his arms. But at least there's an urge, and he sighs, almost in resignation.

You smile up at him and whisper, "I love you, Lucas." You didn't plan on confessing that, but it feels right. Somehow.

It's the first time you've ever admitted that. The words feel strange, beautiful, new. They tremble on your tongue and vibrate on your lips, and you can almost see them in the air fluttering between you. They're reflected in the clear blue of his eyes and in the curl of your blond locks.

Those words are everywhere, and you've never felt so alive.

He doesn't say anything, and you tuck a lock of hair behind your ear and murmur idly, "I pretended with Jake, because it was easier than still caring about you."

He nods – almost unwillingly, you think, and you suppress a tiny laugh – but otherwise doesn't respond. You stroke his cheek fondly, watching as he closes his eyes and leans into your palm, and you continue, "But I'm done pretending."

His eyes fly open, locking with yours, and you stare at him for a long moment. That blue is so unfathomable, so piercing. It reminds you of bottomless lakes.

You can't tell what he's thinking (which is extremely weird for you). You feel as if you've stepped off a cliff, as if you no longer have control over your fate. One foot dangles in the air and the other curls close to the rock itself. It's exhilarating, and you want to hold onto it.

But you only say again, "I love you." You breathe in. "And I have for a very long time."

And now you wait. You have nothing more to say.

"No, Peyt," Lucas whispers at last, and you grin, because he's calling you by that nickname and you've missed that. He sounds firm, but you can tell he's wavering when he clenches his jaw unthinkingly. You want to reach up and touch that bit of stubble on his cheek, but you've already done that, and this time you can't and you won't.

"Why not?" You're sure you're whining, but you don't really have that much dignity at this point, so why does that even matter?

"I won't be your replacement for Jake."

You flinch. You want to laugh – he is so grossly mistaken – but you refrain. There's something flickering in his eyes, something you've missed more than you can ever put into words. There's love there, and you need him so badly, so suddenly, that you don't stop to think about what you're going to say next. You just say it.

"No Luke," you whisper, a smile playing around the corners of your mouth, "_He _was my replacement."

That blue-eyed, beautiful boy looks confused – again. He shakes his head a little and asks, "For who?"

You want to laugh at his confusion – he can never take a hint – but you feel a little lightheaded and can't quite muster the air. Instead, you smile coyly reach up on your tiptoes to whisper into his ear, "For you."

Hope flashes across his face, but it's gone so quickly that you can't quite catch it. You're afraid he'll protest again, and you don't think you can handle giving him another explanation. So you simply tell him, "I'm going to kiss you now, Lucas Scott."

There's a long silence.

He nods.

And you rush into his arms.

_My heart is yours_

_fin_


End file.
